For Remembrance
by Veleda
Summary: Hunith's mother once told her that memories were the province of the old... Spoilers for 1x10


This is then:

Hunith's mother once told her that memories were the province of the old. The young look toward the future, not the past. Now that she has grown old herself, she thinks it's true. She understands the allure of memories now. There is certainty in the past.

She looks at her son and at the friends who are standing by his side. There is something hopeful in them, despite knowing the danger that's coming tomorrow. Impossible as it is, Hunith finds herself wishing they could keep that hope forever.

She can't believe it though. She remembers to much of the world.

This is what she remembers:

The winter wind whistles through the cracks of their hut, and Hunith huddles together with her mother and sisters for warmth. This winter has been hard and gone on too long. There is talk of finding a sorcerer who knows weather magic. Hunith doubts anything will come of it. Ealdor has no money, and even sorcerers can't eat good deeds. She may be only a child, but she knows that much.

Hunith thinks it might be nice to be a sorcerer. She wouldn't have to work in the fields, feed the chickens, or look after her little sister. She would be a good sorcerer and would always help her neighbors fix their leaky roofs and make them better when they were sick or hurt.

Hunith sighs and draws closer to her mother. Wishing is all very fine, but tomorrow she'll still be plain ordinary Hunith with no magic to help her with her chores. Their clothes will be too thin and the food too scarce. The baker's baby will still be sick, maybe even dead.

Magic would fix everything, if they had it. Hunith knows it with all the perfect certainty of a child. But there's no magic in Ealdor.

This is what she remembers:

Camelot is full of bustle, and noise, and more people than Hunith has ever seen. She can't find in in herself to be too excited, however. Not with her sister dead in ground.

She remembers Amira's smile before she left for Camelot, so full of hope. It's not a bad final memory to have. Still Hunith wishes that she could have seen Amira just once more.

She doesn't want to return quite yet, doesn't want to have to deliver the tragic news. So she helps Amira's husband with his work. Gaius is a physician and small time sorcerer, and he never tires of explaining his work. It keeps their minds off Amira.

Hunith is disappointed to learn that she has no natural talent for magic. Not that she ever put much stock in her childhood dreams, but it's still a bit disheartening.

"It's rather strange though," Gaius tells her. "You'll have very little luck performing magic. However magic is," he waves his hand, looking for the right word, "drawn to you. I can't promise that it won't bring you trouble."

So, Hunith's visit to Camelot has brought her a dead sister and possible magical trouble. She should have stayed home.

This is what she remembers:

Every young woman knows that it's unwise to walk alone on the longest night of the year. Some of the concerns are practical: it's _cold_, and freezing to death because you were too much of a fool to go inside is just embarrassing.

But there are other, darker reasons. Every bit of common sense is telling Hunith to turn around. She ignores it. There's something to find out there.

The man standing on the path is extraordinarily handsome. Hunith suddenly feels very aware of her humble appearance.

His golden eyes seem to stare into her soul. "Most women know better than to look for me."

"I'm not most women," she tells him. "I'm me."

He laughs and kisses her. Suddenly it feels like summer. When he lays her down, the snow might as well be sun drenched grass.

There's a sharp pain when he enters her, but he kisses her softly and soon the pain becomes pleasure.

Hunith doesn't know how long they lie together. It could be minutes or hours. He disappears like a phantom, and Hunith is left with nothing but the ghostly feel of his touch against her skin.

Her footsteps are silent as she walks back.

This is what she remembers:

Hunith is only slightly surprised when Merlin's eyes flash gold for the first time, and the pitcher he has been reaching toward goes flying across the room. She has almost been waiting for it. However, it's sudden enough for her to freeze until Merlin grabs one of the broken pieces and cuts his hand. Her baby's wail of pain sends her racing toward him.

She had hoped that Merlin would be spared the grief of being different. Magic isn't appreciated like it once was. Sorcerers aren't hired, they're murdered. The thought makes Hunith sick.

"Nobody's going to hurt you," she whispers as she holds Merlin close. "Not as long as I'm alive." Merlin smiles a blissful, uncomprehending smile and tugs at her hair. Hunith swats his hand. "What am I going to do with you?"

What is she going to do with him? How can she teach a baby to hide himself? And how will she teach him caution without also teaching him shame?

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's the rest of the world that's wrong." She'll tell him that. She'll tell him every day. "You're perfect just the way you are."

Merlin blows a spit bubble and laughs.

This is what she remembers:

She checks and double checks Merlin's pack, and then she checks again. Is there enough food? Warm clothes?

"I don't think there's anything new in there, mum." Merlin is looking at her, amused. She's glad. Hunith knows that Merlin is feeling conflicted. He doesn't want to leave her or Will. However, their little village is too small for him and he knows it, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

"Let a mother worry," she tells him. "I need to fit in all my fretting now."

His expressions turns serious. "I don't have to go."

"Yes you do. Because you listen to your mother, right?"

He smiles a little. "Yeah."

She hugs him. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

She hands him the pack. "You'll stay out of trouble?"

He gives her a sheepish grin. "I'll try."

She sighs. "That will have to do. Now, go. I'm sure that Will is skulking around somewhere, pretending that he doesn't want to say goodbye." She kisses his forehead and watches him leave. She doesn't go outside. Let the boys have a private goodbye.

It's for the best, she knows that. Still, she can't stop feeling like her heart is breaking.

This is now:

Hunith smiles as she watches Merlin and his friends ride away. It's a sad smile-- so much has been lost -- but it's a true one.

Merlin is different now. Not less clumsy or less likely to put his foot in his mouth, but he has a strength that wasn't there before.

Last time Merlin left, Hunith was afraid. This time she isn't. Not after seeing the loyalty and goodness of his friends. She tucks away the memory of their courage.

She will hold on to these memories, bittersweet as they are. That's the right of the old, after all.


End file.
